Years before, when but a boy in the boarding school at Canandaigua, he had
often fancied that the time would come when he should both see and know
the sister whom Richard Wilmot used to describe in such glowing terms.
Since then another image had filled his heart and he had dreamed of
another face--not so fair, perhaps, but quite as innocent. But now the
dream was sadly over, and he had never thought of the gentle Fanny for a
wife since that night when, as he supposed, he saw the dark side of her
character. He, however, could not conquer his old partiality, and always
spoke of her in the highest terms. Consequently, from his description of
her, Kate received a very favorable impression.
He said little of Julia; but told Kate that he would take her to Mr.
Middleton's the first fine day. He wished to go there in order to induce
Mrs. Middleton to send her daughters back to school. The next Saturday was
fixed upon for the visit, and at an early hour Mr. Miller and Kate were on
their way to Mr. Middleton's.
Kate Wilmot was not only handsome, but was also very intelligent and
agreeable, and by the time their ride was half-completed, Mr. Miller was
more than half in love and was building air castles just as he had done
months before when Fanny was mistress of them all.
About noon they reached Mr. Middleton's, where they were received very
kindly by Mrs. Middleton, very joyfully by Fanny, and very coldly by
Julia, whose face always wore a darker frown whenever Mr. Miller was
present; but he apparently did not notice it, and went on conversing upon
different subjects. At last he asked when Mr. Middleton was expected home.
"I am expecting him every day," said Mrs. Middleton, "and," she added in a
lower tone, "I almost dread to have him come, for I do not know that he
has ever heard a word of Richard's illness and death."
"Why, have you never written to him?" asked Mr. Miller.
"Yes," replied she; "but it is so uncertain as to what place he is in, or
how long he will remain there, that it is doubtful whether he ever
received the letter. We heard from him a few days ago. He was then in
Indiana, and as he said nothing about Mr. Wilmot, I presume he has not
heard of his death."
Just as she had finished speaking, the dogs set up a great barking, and
the negroes uttered the joyful cry of "Marster's come! Marster's come!"
The family ran to the door to meet him; but Fanny could not wait for him
to enter the house, neither could she stop to unfasten the gate, but
clearing it with one bound, she was soon in the arms of her father, who
uttered his usual, "Ha, ha," and said, "Well done, darling; you'll do for
a cirkis rider. Are you glad to see your old pap?"